That's Hot
by saison
Summary: Spencer Reid has made the worst mistake of his life by renting out a room in his townhouse to Coco Clark- a girl whose role models are Regina George, Elle Woods, and Paris Hilton. A little bit OOC... But I tried xD
1. Chapter 1

"Yeah, didn't your rentor move in today?" Derek asked, looking around the bullpen to see an empty room. No one was here except for the two of them, and they were leaving.

Nodding his head, Reid answered, "God, I'm really nervous because we haven't met." Derek stopped in place to give the genus a long stern look.

"Reid, bless your soul," he laughed, putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder, "That was stupid." Laughing softly in agreement, he walked out into the chilly autumn air with his coworker. Down to the scent, everything felt wrong tonight to Reid. "Do you know his name?"

Reid bit his lip for a minute, not sure if he should tell Morgan. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to divulge the information to him, "It's a girl, and her name is Coco Clark."

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. Reid wondered to himself if Morgan knew her or something. After all, he just rented out a room in his townhouse in the city for six months, with someone he didn't know. In hindsight, this was really stupid—really, really stupid.

"Well, I wish the best for you," the man across the parking lot said. Reid was going to need it, he thought, more like he knew.

"Thanks Morgan, see you Monday?" Spencer hollered across the parking lot, a cloud of air forming at his mouth. Stars glittered in the night sky, casting light into the darkened area. Few cars still lined the parking lot, most belonging to night security. The night guards had their flashlights out, combing through the federal building, a normal day at work for them.

Morgan chuckled, nodding his head, "Yeah, as much as I miss your pretty face, I don't want to have a case this weekend," ducking into his car, Morgan turned the ignition. Reid, leaning up against the fender, decided it might be a good time to end his long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Twisting the key in the lock of the door, he closed his eyes for a brief second. Anything could be behind this door, anyone, doing something that maybe shouldn't be seen. Taking a deep breath, Spencer found the courage to open the door. Opening up his eyes, he saw his couch moved back against the blue wall, and at least ten girls twisted into knots on foam mats in his living room.

"Oh hi Spencer," the one in the kitchen greeted, her blonde hair was almost too hard to look at. Her skin was as orange as Dorito dust, and her fake mole above her lip was a terrible effort to impersonate Marilyn Monroe. Marilyn Monroe was a really classy lady, not a confused junk food item like this girl was, Spencer thought.

"Coco?" he asked, uncomfortable at how many half naked women were in his home tonight.

Coco smiled and laughed nasally. Putting a large black bag on the marble breakfast bar, the echoes of glass hurt Spencer's ears. Reaching into the bag she pulled out a large collection of booze. "You want a Jell-o shooter?" she asked, turning around to mix together water with something vile smelling in a bowl.

Making his way into the kitchen, he put his take out in the fridge. The smell of self tanner wasn't helping his appetite. "No thank you," he sighed, looking at the various high heeled shoes lined up against the wall.

"Pina Colada, Margarita, or an Apple Tini?" she questioned again, strutting back to the stove. Unlike the girls in the yoga gear, she was in full out club wear. Her strappy high heel sandals clicked and clacked too loudly on the tile. Pulling out the receipt to the alcoholic's paradise she bought, her face dropped. "Chrissie poo!" she whined, waving the thing in the air.

In the living room, a girl in a star printed top and tight leggings came and sat at the bar, "Hi Spencer!" she waved and smiled way too animatedly. Awkwardly Spencer raised his right hand from his corner and waved back slowly.

"This doesn't go on the card right?" Coco sighed; pouting her heavily lined pink lips. Her whole face threatened to come off at the weight of her eye makeup. Spencer moved to the coffee pot to rinse it out. He had to look like he was doing something.

'Chrissie poo,' a girl that had too much bronzer on, shook her head and rolled her blue eyes, "As if!" she cheered. Murmurs Spencer deciphered as, 'totes,' and, 'duh's,' erupted. Spencer felt bugs crawling all over his skin, or maybe it was the sight of Vagisil that the girls had left on the kitchen counter in plain sight.

"So have you changed your mind?" she pouted grabbing his hand. Shaking her talons off of his tissue without trying to be rude, he was trying to figure out how to express his… Common sense… To this troll in front of him.

Shaking his head, he answered, "No thank you." Pacing back over to where he had dropped his bag, he kneeled down to retrieve it. Feeling a sharp pain in his wrist, he ignored it for a few seconds. Yelping out in pain at the continuation of it, he shook his wrist. Snapping his head around to the site of the pain, Spencer couldn't believe it. A dog, a little puffball that looked like it rubbed up against a balloon too many times, latched its jaws into his flesh. "What the hell are you doing to her dog?" a girl with black curly hair and the common orange skin asked him. He was just trying to get the mutt off of his forearm before he was infected with rabies.

"What the hell is it doing to me?" he whined, trying to shake it off. The beast growled, not giving up.

The girl with the black hair shrugged, and continued to move with the rhythm of the tribal music playing. Coco's voice rang from the kitchen "Kumquat!" she called. As soon as the menace heard its name, he ventured over to the blonde in the kitchen. Grabbing his bag as soon as he could reach it, Spencer didn't even care about the blood trickling down his arm.

Stumbling back into the kitchen, Reid did decide he was going to drink tonight. Not an 'Apple Tini,' or whatever the hell that was. Reaching into his cabinet, he pulled out the bourbon Rossi had gifted him with months ago. "Whoa, is that blood?" Coco asked, popping open the cork on her many bottles of alcohol. It looked like the ABC store in the kitchen.

"No," Spencer emphasized, grabbing a paper towel to mop up the mess 'Kumquat' caused. "There are 4.5 million dog bite victims a year, and the number is rising," Spencer spit out as he pressed the crushed ice button on the stainless steel refrigerator. Reaching back up into the white cabinets, he got down a glass and went back over to the machine.

"But Kumquat here is the sweetest pooch ever," she crooned at the statically charged mutt. Playfully the mongrel licked her face. Surprisingly, no bronzer came off, but a line on her cheek was completely de-glitterfied.

Giggles flew in the other room; Spencer ignored them and sat his glass under the ice dispenser. Grabbing another paper towel from nearby, he pressed another cloth to his wound. Moving the icy glass from the dispenser, he poured the aged bourbon into the glass. Putting the bottle back up into the cabinet in the correct spot, Spencer sighed. These bimbos were getting him to drink. He shouldn't let them get to him like that.

"I saw your law book on the coffee table," Coco stated, pouring a red mixture into an array of shot glasses. "I read a little, because it is _so_ Reese Witherspoon," she commented. Reid picked up the glass and chugged it. Bourbon wasn't necessarily supposed to be taken down like that, but did he really have a choice?

Smiling, a more pleasant universe overtook Spencer, "I don't mind," he laughed. Spotting the stairs out of the corner of his eye, he waved, "I've got to go read up!" he cheered. Stumbling up the stairs, he cursed the potency of the liquor and his lightweight alcohol tolerance.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up the next morning, Spencer sighed. He hoped that all of this was just a dream that he was forced to remember. Hearing the dog clawing at his door was a reminder, a reminder that he had a roommate from hell. Shrugging into a shirt, he was surprised he didn't have a hangover. There were many thoughts about what to do today running through Spencer's mind. Only one stuck out though, be wherever Coco wasn't.

Opening the door when the mongrel had dispersed, Spencer treaded quietly down the stairs. Fortune wasn't in his favor, Coco was yakking loudly on the phone with someone. Lingering around the corner, Spencer eavesdropped. "Kappa Kappa Gamma, whatever," she scoffed, holding up a bottle of cough syrup. "Barbs, should I take Nyquil during the day?"

Well, you should never be in the position to operate heavy machinery, Spencer thought. "Sounds fetch," she expressed, moving over to the corner of the kitchen. Reid remained idle at the foot of the stairs. From its crate, 'Kumquat' growled and pawed at the metal bars. "Kappa Delta Rho? Yeah, that's hot," she commented, pausing for a brief second to glance at the white puff ball's agitation. Creeping silently back up the stairs, he made more noise coming down this time.

"Barbs," she pouted, her lips still lined a half of an inch thick. "You cannot like Eva Mendes, she is like carbs!" she exclaimed, tapping her acrylic claws on the marble. A large obnoxious bow sat in her platinum blonde hair which was gunked up with some sorts of glue. Continuing on with her rant she yelled, "Eva Mendes is dating Ryan Reynolds."

Rolling his eyes, Spencer went into the kitchen to heat up some of the takeout he got last night. Not that the smell had improved in here, it was because the hunger could be ignored any longer. "Yeah babe, they wouldn't let me change my political views on Facebook to vegetarian," she complained, reaching down to clutch her brown bag off of the floor.

The microwave beeped, and Spencer removed his dish from the box. "We should totally get some froyo," she suggested, flinging the body bag over her shoulder. Retreating to the living room, he turned on the television. "Oh, I got like roofie'd at Delta before, it was a totally cray night,"

"Hmm, I'll go anyways, you slutbag," she sighed, walking towards the mirror that hung above the small kitchen set. "Do pearls say classy lady or cheap hooker?" She held the necklace out and observed herself in the mirror. Her sandals clicked on the tile like they did last night. Spencer could feel a headache coming on, maybe this was the cause. "Shambly?" she questioned 'Barbs' on the phone. Before Spencer could hear another blurb of the disorganized conversation, Coco had picked up Kumquat. With the vicious menace under her arm, she shut the door behind her.

As soon as she left, he unearthed his cell phone. Dialing Morgan's number, he waited as patiently as he could for him to pick up. "Hello," a groggy Derek answered the phone.

"You know how you told me it was a stupid decision to not know my rentor," Spencer sputtered into the phone, anxious of what Morgan would say. Tapping his fingers on the arm of the leather chair, he waited impatiently for his response.

"Yeah," he answered, "Anything wrong?" the man inquired, obviously concerned. Spencer didn't know where to start. Whether it be the lack of intelligence, or the fact these girls were actually accepted into college, they were both topics of extreme questioning.

"I fundamentally had an entire sorority in my house last night," Reid started. It didn't make him seem too judgmental, or hateful, it just made him seem over exaggerating. Morgan would more than likely see that as a blessing rather than a curse.

He chuckled, "What's wrong with that?" he questioned, Reid was correct. Morgan did see it as a good thing, but had he met them? Hopefully that could stay a rhetorical question, Reid didn't dislike his friend.

Grunting, Spencer explained his point, "The place reeked of self tanner, her face is literally two shades darker than her neck, frat guys apparently came some point in the night, and when I walked in she was making Jell-O shooters, I swear Morgan she bought out the entire ABC store!" he exclaimed, fighting for breath.

"Whoa, Pretty Boy, take a breather," Morgan laughed. Reid reflected on it and realized how dire his situation was. If it weren't for the fact that he was gone all the time and that he needed the money, Coco would be kicked to the curb with her furry fiend. "Garcia and I are supposed to meet up later, want to come?" Morgan suggested. Reid shrugged his shoulder, what could it hurt?

"Sure," he accepted the invitation.


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting at the bar, Morgan stared at him as Garcia joined him. "So, Pretty Boy," Morgan asked, implying for him to spill. Reid wasn't comfortable speaking about Coco. Coco sent cringes up his spine.

"So, Morgan," he mused, stirring his coffee around with the plastic stirrer. The bar was entirely too unoccupied to be a social hotspot. Smells infiltrated his nose, moldy beer, and something else.

"Coco," he sipped on his drink. Garcia exchanged a quick glance with Derek. Hopefully Penelope still thought Coco was his girlfriend or something. Coco was the content of every nightmare he didn't lose sleep too. Garcia pursed her lips in excitement, raising her eyebrows.

Reid laughed softly, "Coco is my rentor, and…" Spencer didn't know how to explain it.

"She's like the whole female cast of Clueless and Legally Blonde rolled into one Baby girl," Derek explained, draining his beverage. Spencer didn't know what that meant, but he was concerned. Clueless was an adjective he'd used to describe Coco.

Garcia's eyes bulged outwards. Spencer had the feeling that the comment Morgan had made was correlating with his thoughts. "Poor Spencer," she pouted, appearing genuinely saddened by the news. "Give me the deats," she spoke excitedly, words flying out of her mouth like they were running marathons.

"Hmm," Reid fumed, trying to find out what the details of Coco were. There certainly weren't any subtle ones. To be honest, he didn't know where to begin at; her vivacious personality was thrown at him last night. "Well, she's a sorority girl with some huge trust fund because I don't see how she even managed to get out of high school," Spencer explained, uncomfortable with speaking in public about his woes. What if she was behind them? "I'm glad she went out for Froyo, whatever that is," he stated, taking a big slurp of his coffee.

"Ohhh, poor Reid," Garcia expressed, throwing in a few lighthearted giggles. A bartender came and addressed Morgan if he wanted anything else. "Can't say I had any terrible roommates," Penelope admitted. Great, Spencer mused; no one could truly understand his pain.

* * *

The cars lined down the street, many of them plastered in university Greek letters. Spencer cursed loudly in his car, banging the steering wheel. Usually he wasn't a violent person, but this troll brought out the worst in him. If it weren't for the fact he had already spent the money Coco gave him, he'd have kicked her to the corner. On his front porch, there were five guys and two girls, all resting and reclining habitually.

This was the side of college Spencer was glad he never had to endure. Caltech didn't have sorority and fraternity chapters, and he wouldn't have even thought of joining one if they did. Parking his car in his space, he walked up to the door. Surprisingly, no one gave him any lip on the porch. Opening the door, he saw the full effect of Coco.

Glitter sparkled in the midair, raining down on horny twenty something's. All the lights were turned off and replaced with the flashing strobes. Half of the monsters were grinding up on the opposite sex, another fourth on the same sex, and then there were the ones that were dry humping anything they could without getting a restraining order. Spencer noted that there weren't any wallflowers present, and that he wasn't sticking around here long enough to be one.

"Go insane, go insane, have wild sex with Lorraine!" A girl standing on the coffee table yelled. Her manicure glittered with each flash of the light. Clutching the neck of the large bottle she held, some guy came up and began dancing with her. All of this was happening on his coffee table. Evil in him hoped that he had read the IKEA directions wrong, and the structure would crash down.

Darting straight towards the stairs, he closed the door behind him. The bass pumped rhythmically through the drywall, making the frames on the wall shake. Habitually, he felt the throbbing behind his forehead. All of the unbearable pain originating from the lights, smells, and noise of Coco's madness.

Well, there were more than likely a couple of people puking downstairs, so he shouldn't feel singled out. Lying down on his bed over the covers, he rolled the comforter between his fingers. Progressively over the next five minutes, the tenderness began to get even worse. Each boom of the bass sent a new type of jolting ache to his brain. How much longer could he take this? Slowly, but ever-so-surely, his body made its way into the fetal position. Reid's eyes closed, in attempts to sleep the migraine off.

But there is a time when it is too agonizing to even sleep. Even his neck began to pound. It began to feel like the room was shaking, moving around him like a satellite. This is what it is like to go insane, and he wasn't sure he could blame it entirely on Coco, and he surely didn't have wild sex with Lorraine.

* * *

The next morning, was better. Spencer's migraine had subsided, and the bass had ceased to exist. After changing out of his day clothes he had fell asleep in, he settled on a more sensible solution—sweats. Crossing his fingers, he twisted the knob and flung open his bedroom door. Creeping slowly to the stairs, he looked at the carnage in his living room.

Bodies, all steadily breathing, littered the floor. Literally, it was a sleep where you drop deal. It reeked of vodka, whiskey, beer; Spencer couldn't name all the alcohol his nostrils picked up on. Not to mention that the cloud of body odor, Abercrombie cologne, and vomit did not operate tamely together. Blinking, eyes burning from the stench, he was surprised the cops weren't notified. Everyone here couldn't have been over twenty one.

Reid hadn't even made it down the stairs yet. He didn't want to. So he went back to his room, closed the door behind him, and hoped they left very hastily. About an hour passed of him playing the keyboard, before he heard shuffling downstairs. Then like a miracle, he watched at the very least thirty to fifty college students leave his house in hordes. They lingered around the cars like delinquents. Some were trying to remove Sharpie marker from their oily glitter strewn faces.

After twenty minutes of dormancy downstairs, he deemed it safe to leave the room. Twisting the knob again, he repeated the steps. No one remained below, just Coco, in her sweats. Sunday mornings weren't ever this eventful. "Hi there," Coco sighed, sweeping her hair into a large bun.

"What the hell was that?" Spencer exclaimed, trying his very best to keep his temper restrained. Coco's large hoop earrings jingled as her head moved slightly. Taking his seat on the couch, Coco stared at him from the chair like he was crazy.

"It was a greeting, duh," she huffed, rolling her eyes moodily. Retrieving her iPhone from the armrest of the black leather furniture, she swiped her finger across it multiple times. Grunting she shook it up and down. "My iPhone's broke!" she whined noisily, hitting the thing in the palm of her hand. Flipping it, she sighed in relief, "Nevermind."

Spencer coughed nicely to suppress a laugh. "I meant what the hell were fifty people doing in my home last night?" he reiterated, trying to pull a Morgan with his aggressive tones.

"Whoa, calm your tits," she grumbled, turning off the television. Scooping up Kumquat, she stumbled to get a set of keys. Hangovers weren't flattering for her. Slamming the door behind him, Spencer cringed. Venturing into the kitchen, he checked his own phone. Scrolling down to the calendar, he saw today was highlighted in red. Holy crud, it was the 18th. Holly was coming over later.

Surveying the wasteland around him, he literally dropped the phone and began trying to pick up all the beer cans. On his way around the back wall, he grabbed the vacuum and began to suction up the glitter. He had an hour before she came.

Holly had the prettiest, curly, honey blonde hair, but that wasn't the only feature that he noticed. Unlike Coco and her type, Holly didn't really fit into anything. Actually, unlike any girl her had ever met, Holly understood him. When she was around, it didn't make him feel like it was her chore. Snapping out of his reverie, he got back to cleaning.

And it wasn't too long before his doorbell was ringing, scrubbing down the last spot on the kitchen counter, he rushed over to the door. Glaring through the peephole, he saw her. Certainly, she had dressier days, but this wasn't one of them. Dark jeans adorned her average length legs, and a navy blue baseball tee fit her frame loosely. Piled into a frizzy curly mess, her hair stood high upon her head in some bun like contraption. Impatiently, she rapped on the door again, "Spencer!" she yelled.

Waiting a few seconds, Spencer then decided to let her in. "Hey," he blushed, hoping his surroundings weren't detestable. Glitter wasn't trickling in the air, so he thought it was okay.

"Hi," she fluttered her eyelashes. Her huge gray leather messenger bag in tow, she walked into the threshold. Gazing around, she smiled like she at home. "Thanks Spencer," she squeezed the strap tightly laying it down next to the dog crate. Noticing the large metal infrastructure she queried, "Did you get a dog?"

"No, my roommate has one," Spencer rolled his eyes, closing the door. He wasn't intending on unloading his personal drama on Holly. She came here to get away from the immature audience at the university. Inside her bag would more than likely be binders and textbooks full of music theory she already knew.

Under her breath, she began running through a song Spencer didn't know. "No more dreaming," she sung quietly, sitting herself on the couch. There was a Star Trek marathon she had come over to watch with him. Taking the remote she continued, "Like a girl," Instead of looming around the perimeter of the room, he went into the kitchen and brought back the snacks and drinks he had premade. "… The wrong world," she finished, biting into a Tostitos chip. Turning off his ringer, Spencer laid the phone on the end table and sat on the couch with Holly. Not being so close to her before, he noticed she smelled nice. Sort of like warm happiness, her scent was too hard for him to describe.

And they sat there, and chatted pointlessly about the events unfolding on the screen. Coco wasn't in Spencer's hair, wherever she had gone. After the first two episodes, Reid had snuck his arm around the reverse of the sofa. Holly had gradually inched closer to him. By the conclusion of the third episode, they were comfortably nestled together. Spencer didn't even think twice about it, even though Holly didn't necessarily say it was okay—it felt natural.

Hearing a lock turn in the door, they were halfway through the fourth episode. Spencer stopped breathing; this was not the way to end a good afternoon. Darting his head to the door, he watched the first beams of light fall on his carpet. Holly nudged him with her elbow, "What's wrong?"

Coco walked in with two girls. Chrissie Poo', the one he had the misfortune of meeting last night, had on a midriff exposing blue shirt with shorts that would make a nun fall over. The other one, a redhead, wearing a pink tube top too bright with corresponding heels was typing away on a phone. "Hi," Holly waved, twinkling her fingers. Redhead swirled around at the sound of Holly's voice as if it hurt her. Locking eyes with Holly, Spencer concurred that they knew each other.

Glaring for a few moments, you could feel the tension like humidity on a sultry day. "Better keep your legs closed," Carrot top slurred. Holly cackled loudly, turning up the volume to the television. Spencer turned his head to focus on her, and not the slandering trio. Hearing clops on the stairs, Spencer took a large sigh of relief. Thankfully, the three had resorted to Coco's room.

When he heard the door pull together, Holly pressed, "That's your roommate?" Finding his hand through the pillows, she laced her fingers around his. Spencer blushed and looked to the right. Kumquat wasn't present in the dog crate, a blessing.

"I didn't… meet her… before the whole thing… finalized," Spencer reassured, squeezing her hand. What was this 'thing' that they had going on? His heart beat faster than it normally would have in his chest, and he was stammering more than usual.

Holly rolled her eyes, "Calm down," she giggled, her eyes glistened. Spencer noted that they were pretty like that, an attractive form of glitter. She wasn't bad looking, she wasn't average either. Holly was one of those girls that could probably get anyone out there — not in the bad way either. But she inhibited herself, like most attractive interesting females do. Not in a way that said she had a bad self esteem, but more like she didn't want to have to give something that wasn't refundable. "Me and Barbie have bumps, but I'm more of a 'heap burning coals' type of person," she shrugged, conveniently right into Spencer.

"Is that a warning?" Spencer raised his eyebrows in question. Holly chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. His nose was infiltrated with that scent again. And like any lovesick teenager, Spencer grinned, and felt like he could never stop.

"I'm pretty sure anyone can forgive you," Holly poked his side. Spencer recoiled from the hard jab.

Rolling his eyes, he seriously doubted that statement. There was a lot he could do that would be unforgivable. As of today, he had killed three people, two in self defense. For some people, that could be unforgivable. "Not true," he argued.

Holly laughed, mocking his statement. Spencer didn't know why she thought his record was so pristine. It was one of those, 'If she only knew,' moments. "You reek of innocence," she commented, turning up the volume once more. As the final commercial played, they reverted their attention back to the flat screen.

She didn't let go beneath the pillows.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all for the reviews, and the patience. I thought Spencer needed an outlet for everything terrible. And what better way than to add some cat-fights in there…? Muhahaha! **


	5. Chapter 5

"So Spencer?" Coco questioned, eating some sort of oatmeal at the kitchen table. Spencer stirred around his coffee. What did she want?

Pouring the remnants of the coffee pot into a travel mug, he grabbed a banana off of the hook. "Yes?" he answered, packing the fresh textbook that had come in the leather bag. Pouring the right amount of sugar in there, he felt a judgmental gaze from Coco.

"What exactly do you do?" she bit into an apple, a large crisp sound echoed off the ceiling of the room. Reaching into the holster, Spencer pulled out his gun. Checking the barrel he retreated back to the refrigerator.

Reaching for the olive toned metal box, he took out several boxes of bullets. Stowing them in his bag, he put a few bullets in the magazine. "I'm a criminal profiler," he hummed, placing the gun back onto his belt. Checking everything twice, he finished up his cup of coffee. Peeling the banana, he took a hefty chunk out of it.

Coco tapped her claws on the table; these were natural looking with white tips. She nodded like she actually knew what he was talking about. Finishing scrawling something down on pink paper, she took another spoonful of oatmeal. "Sort of like David Rossi or Jason Gideon?" she continued to write on a piece of paper.

Spencer stopped breathing for a second. How'd she know…? Was she really smarter than she let on? Kumquat came and nestled up against his leg, which resulted in him jumping away from the beast. Colliding with the corner of the cabinet, the plates inside jolted. "What's up with you?" she laughed, still trained on whatever she was writing.

"Nothing, I'm late though, sorry," he gathered his stuff, leaving the half eaten banana on the counter. Rubbing his temple, he jetted towards the door. Before he managed to escape, he heard a yell from the kitchen.

"Toodles!" Coco yelled. A large howl from Kumquat followed. Spencer traveled down the steps and tried to digest what had just happened. Rossi, he was explainable, but Gideon? The solitary piece Gideon wrote was only mean to be in bureau training. Unless Coco was enrolled in the FBI academy, there was little possibility she should even know that name.

It was like Coco had taken salt and rubbed it all in Spencer's internal wounds. Besides, he had just gotten to the point where he was apathetic about the whole situation. Nevertheless, you don't forget anything in the past completely. Unlocking his car, Spencer turned the key in the ignition, and began his day with too many questions on his mind.

* * *

Spencer was fond of mid morning briefings, especially when they didn't lead to him having to fly out somewhere. The case they were working was in Baltimore, a mere hour and thirty minutes away. That left his mind to do so serious damage. With a copy of Gideon's book in tow, he sat in the last row of the SUV. Nothing in the text would grab Coco's attention. Besides, unless she was working towards being a profiler or a police officer, there would be no incentive to read the text.

Spencer waited anxiously during the car ride, there were seven bodies found at one dump site. Nothing seemed to surprise him anymore. "What are you thinking about back there?" Morgan asked, prompting three head to turn around and ask the same question.

"Stereographic Projection," Spencer lied. He was thinking about a slosh of things that were even deeper than spheres and planes. Morgan made a face and everyone turned back around. Spencer debated whether or not he should call Coco and leave a message on the house phone. Deciding against it, he began to reminisce on his night with Holly.

Did he like her? She was twenty four, six years younger than him. Holly probably thought of him as some older brother, a geeky older brother. He'd only known her three months or so, after they met on the subway. But they clicked, like north and south. Shaking that from his head, he couldn't think right now.

* * *

"As if!" Coco cheered, gossiping loudly at the table with Barbie, the redhead. Holly had some sort of noodle conjunction working up in the kitchen, it smelled nice. Spencer sat at the breakfast bar and watched her. "We all know that I got crabs from the toilet at the Verizon Center!" Coco giggled. Spencer cringed in his skin as Holly made eye contact with him. Trying their hardest not to laugh, Reid believe he was about to draw blood from his lower lip.

"Oh I know babe," Barbie's deep voice comforted Coco. They weren't bad people, just unintelligent. Even unintelligent was to be debated. Brushing her hair behind her ear, Holly turned off the eye. "We should be hipsters, because big venues are so mainstream," Barb suggested, laying her manicured hand over Coco's.

Straining the pasta, Holly ungracefully attempted to remove her shirt. Underneath, a skimpy striped yellow tank top revealed itself. "Gosh, who knew that this place would be so hot," Holly muttered, tossing the blue shirt to the side. Landing nicely on top of her bag, pillars of steam raised from the sink. Sauce was bubbling in another pan, and Spencer was enveloped in watching her movements.

"Do you two want any Pesto Gnocchi?" Holly asked, grabbing a dish from the top of the cabinet. Pouring the pasta in the bowl, she reached over to get the topping. She moved like a dancer, though she was a composer.

Coco had no on the edge of her lips, before looking at Barbie. "Have we had any carbs today?" Coco queried, typing into an iPhone. Holly sighed, pouring the pesto all over the tops of the potato pasta. Deciding on being alert, Spencer jumped from his perch on the bar stool. Grabbing pasta dishes and forks, he looked to Coco and Barbie for the deciding vote.

"No," Barbie pursed her lips. Tapping his fingers, Reid hoped they got the gesture. "But hey, YOLO," Barbie shrugged. Their bangles clattered on the table as the two cleared their work off the surface. Unknown what this 'Yolo' was, Spencer glared in Holly's direction for guidance.

Laughing at Spencer's dumbfounding expression, Holly retorted, "You only live once, hence YOLO." Reaching in front of him, she seized two more pasta dishes. Raising his eyebrows, he never was one to grasp popular culture.

"Trill that sister," Barbie commented, snatching her plate off of the breakfast bar. Sauntering to the back counter where the food was, she got a generous helping. "Coco!" she called, whining dramatically. "My self control wants me to be fat!" she giggled.

Coco got her portion and returned to the table with her partner in crime. Holly received hers, but not before making Spencer a dish. "Thanks," he enthusiastically said, accepting the dish. Being lead by Holly to sit down, once everyone was rested, he began to eat. Along with Barbs and Coco, Spencer savored his meal. To his left though, Holly had her head bowed. Making a quick cross over her chest, she brought her head up.

Awkwardly, everyone at the table went silent. "I didn't know you were Catholic," Spencer noted, shoving more of the pasta into his mouth. Holly blushed and began to feasting on her culinary masterpiece. "1.147 billion People hold the catholic faith," Spencer stated, and Barbie and Coco nodded. They probably didn't have a clue what that meant.

No response was being milked out of Holly, so Barbie and Coco took over the talking. "I heard that they're opening up a new Froyo place around the corner!" Barbie noted, sipping on her water. Coco's eyes got ridiculously big.

"Froyo is better than sex!" she cheered. Spencer blushed, staring aimlessly down into the bowl of pasta. Oh how quickly it had disappeared. Holly's eyes were felt on him. The piercing blue quality had that effect on skin.

Biting his lip, he could feel the tension between them both. Had he said something wrong, implied something he wasn't supposed to? "I don't think anything is better than sex," Holly disputed, biting into her noodles. That statement sent Spencer spinning in circles. Holly couldn't have been a strict Catholic if she was out around having sex.

"What about you Spencer, what do you think?" Barbie snickered, stabbing a large amount of pasta and gulping it all down. Oh, the willpower.

Shrugging his shoulders, Spencer blushed. "I'm agreeing with Holly," he almost whispered.

"Oi! We've been put to a tie!" Coco pouted. Unlike what Spencer had expected, he was pleased. Other than the major party and the girls in his living room, Coco wasn't terrible. If he had said that in front of his teammates, even though he cared for them deeply, they would have picked on him to no end. They were different, they were family. This was the closest thing he had to a social group.

Barbie arched her eyebrows, "Defeat sucks," she tapped her fingers on the glass. Reaching under the table, Holly's fingers found Spencer's. Slowly, they twined together. Shocks went down his spine.

Finishing her plate, Coco sighed heavenly, "Thank you so much Holly it was amazing." Placing the fork in the bowl, the metallic sound hit all the wrong places in Spencer's ears. Cringing, he ignored the fact and began rubbing circles on the back of Holly's hand with his thumb. "I'm so glad you and Barbie made up," Coco smiled, with sub hints of dishonesty.

"Thank you Coco," Holly grinned widely, blushing slightly. Soon after Barbie finished her meal and they both excused themselves. Decked out in full on club gear, it was quite obvious Holly and Spencer would have the night to themselves.

"We're heading out," Barbie announced, picking up a purse off of the floor. Following Coco out of the door, hushed giggles erupted from the couple. Holly let go of Spencer's hand and as soon as the front door pulled together, she bolted into action.

Hastily, Holly jumped to her feet and gravitated towards the peephole. Staring out, she was on her tiptoes. "What are you doing?" Spencer questioned, only a moment later, a loud metallic screeching noise proved his point.

* * *

**Author's note:** Impending doom next chapter. Just a warning. Reviews would be awesome! Thanks all who have reviewed! You guys deserve... Internet cookies! Like totes yeah :).


	6. Chapter 6

Flinging the door open, Holly viciously stormed down the steps. "Holly!" Spencer sternly called her. Could he restrain a furious girl from beating the life out of another?

Spencer head her holler, "One of you tricks better have a damn umbrella and be Mary Poppins, 'cause it's going down real quick," and he feared what Holly might do. Not only was it illegal to beat the crap out of the unintelligent, it wouldn't make her a better person. No one wins these sorts of fights. Chasing after her, it was worse than expected.

Holly and Barbie were face to face, Holly beet red and breathing heavily. "Huh? What's that?" she questioned, moving in closer each time like a cobra. "You're just like a damn cricket Barbie, you'll chirp when I'm not around," Holly said relatively calmly and with some strands of civility. Those strand were diminishing quickly, because her voice elevated, "When I'm about to kill you, you shut the hell up!"

Spencer ran down the steps, but it was too late. Holly had lunged herself at Barbie, punching her in the temple in the process. "Holly!" Spencer called out, not knowing whether to pull her back. Barbie aimed a quality left hook at her, and succeeded, giving Barbs the upper hand. Holly retaliated, but Spencer already had his arms around her torso.

In efforts to try to break up the fight, it only made it worse. Holly got three nice backhands to Barbie's face. Hearing a new sort of metallic clink, Reid turned his head to see an earring glittering in the parking lot. "That's right bitch, I take souvenirs!" Holly yelled. By this point Coco had intervened, holding back the redheaded fury. Spencer struggled to keep the squirming twenty four year old from attacking the shocked carrot top. Inching closer towards her, he could restrain her.

With that, Coco let go of Barbie. "You're a whore, screwing around with Brad!" Barbie spat, pulling out a chunk of Holly's hair. Enraged, Holly began kicking her stomach repeatedly.

"Yeah, I guess so, since we were banging in your bed, Dorito dust!" Holly yelled. Spencer dove in and managed to pull Holly back a little bit. This wasn't accomplished without an accidental claw to the face. Wincing, he kept his grip on Holly's midsection. Coco followed his actions, actually getting hold of Barbie and pulling her away with ease.

Barbie was crying, blood running down the side of her neck. Kicking Spencer's shins, Holly tried to break free from the grip. "Holly, calm down," he hushed, fearing the bruises that would indefinitely appear. He wished Holly would just let it go, after all, she had basically won the fight. On the other side, Coco was vocalizing the same thoughts Spencer had.

"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, look at Kelly Clarkson, she got fat and can sing better!" Coco explained. Okay, maybe not the exact thoughts. Holly rolled her eyes and ceased her struggle. Spencer finally took a breath. Adrenaline was pumping in generous amounts through his bloodstream. If it weren't for that component, Holly would still be all over Barbie.

"Whatever doesn't kill me, better run faster than me," Holly screamed, holding her finger up in the air. Spencer could feel her body shake, trembling with anger.

"Get classier, 'kay?" Barbie insulted, running off with Coco. Squirming more, Spencer tried to encase the enraged girl in his arms. Scanning the side of her car, a white streak ran along the side. It sort of resembled the blood soaking Barbie's neck.

Holly calmed down and watched them drive away down the street. "You can let go of me," she iterated sternly. Sitting on the step, she rested her chin in her hands. "That had been brewing for a long time Spencer," she confessed, showing resentment towards the brawl. "I'm sorry," she mouthed quietly.

"Wow," Spencer mused, staring at the glittering earring in the parking lot. She had a lot of fight in her. Standing up, she walked in the direction of the token. Was she really serious about the souvenirs? Spencer cringed as Holly picked it up.

Holding it up to her hair, she looked into her car's windshield to judge her appearance. "Crap, it's really gaudy isn't it?" she questioned, frowning. Removing it from proximity of her face, her face contorted into a mess evaluating the jewelry. Sure it's gaudy with hints of psychotic, Spencer thought, trying to make light of the situation.

It was a pure form of Agathism, the theology that everything leans towards the good in the long run. Agathists accept that evil will occur, but in the end, it's still good. Shaking his head, he didn't intend on being a full time Agathist. Negativity is needed for growth. All the negative energy here could make him eight feet tall. "Well I'm going to head home and clean up," Holly shrugged, still clutching the earring in her palm.

"You don't have to stop coming over," he sighed, watching her reaction. Spencer liked Holly having holly around, it wouldn't be right not seeing her when he was at home. Coco didn't need to get in the way of that.

Holly smirked, opening her car door, "Oh I'm not passing up the opportunity any time Spencer." With that, she crawled into the front seat of the freshly keyed car, and backed out. Spencer watched her drive away from the steps. Once she was out of his vision, he climbed the steps and shut the door behind him. Returning to the table, he noted that there was something about girl fights that made him famished.

* * *

"Like, that really isn't cool," Coco proclaimed from the kitchen. Barbie and Christine, otherwise known as 'Chrissie Poo,' were chatting with Coco. This time, each adorned matching yoga gear, and high piled buns. Spencer was in the living room, trying to memorize text but couldn't help but be eavesdropping on their conversation.

"As if! I totes won that altercation," Barbie bragged. Spencer gouged his teeth into his tongue so he wouldn't laugh. "She just ruined my ear, stole my earring, and broke two of my ribs. Fighting is so childish, I'm a mere victim," Barbie expressed in attempts to receive sympathy.

"It's alright sweetheart, we're going to the Hamptons next week, everything's going to be fine," Coco soothed, a sweet smell infiltrated the air. "Besides, YOLO!" Coco shrieked. Joining with her, the two minions screamed out the phrase as well. Spencer sniffed again, ignoring the blatant stupidity, and picked up on hint of chocolaty warmness. Okay he lied last night; there was one food he'd have over sex. Chocolate chip cookies straight out of the oven were his weakness.

Clawing the sides of the chair, he knew he couldn't feast on them. Putting the book down, he decided there was only one way to satisfy his craving. Getting up, he grabbed his coat and scarf and picked up his bag. Exiting Bimbo Island, he unlocked his car and fled to it.

* * *

Spencer was lounging around the National Mall, eating cookies straight from the bag. Although he was at a bus stop he wasn't planning on boarding a Washington D.C. bus. The metro was bad enough, buses? No way. Munching on a cookie, a girl with black hair sat down next to him. Her eyes were green and wide like she had way too many cups of coffee. In her lap sat a box of chocolates, and in her clutches were several balloons.

It was stiffly hot outside, as it was the Washington summer. Humidity made it so it was troublesome to coexist with the elements. Thankfully a seldom found breeze broke through the humidity and blew cool forgiving air towards them. But it wasn't forgiving enough to keep the balloons from batting Spencer's face. It even stooped so low to knock the cookie straight out of his hand onto the detestable street. "I'm sorry," the woman apologized sweetly, trying to maintain control of the beasts.

As soon as the breeze halted, Spencer worked on another cookie. "My mom used to say life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get," she mused, opening up the box of chocolates. Her dress was black, and her balloons had something attached to the bottom. An envelope dangled from the strings.

"Isn't that the truth," Spencer commented, putting his Agathistic characteristics to rest. There was a time for war and peace, and then there was a time to be down about everything. The woman stared at him as he pulled out another cookie. "It's my weakness," he admitted, blushing. Her bright red lips curled up into a smile.

"You remind me of a professor, but you're so young," she poked as another breeze sifted through the area. Forgetting about the balloons, they came to bat his face again. "I'm sorry," she apologized. Feeling the static electricity alive in his hair, he tried patting it down. The woman giggled loudly, and in a manner that many people would find disturbing. In fact some people stopped and stared.

"It's fine," he laughed genuinely for the first time in forever. "A professor?" he raised his eyebrows. Once he complained that without a gun he was nothing but a teacher's assistant, but he concurred that he had reached the age of seniority. Still struggling with his hair, the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a white scented sheet. Patting down his matted hair, it stopped moving all over the place.

"Thank you, who knew a simple dryer sheet, could fix all of my dilemmas?" Spencer softly laughed along with the mysterious woman. She was very tiny, maybe five foot and a hundred pounds at the very least. The bus pulled up and the woman rose.

"I'll see you soon Spencer," she laughed, skipping up the steps. How'd she know my name, he thought, shaking the awkward suspicions from his mind. The bus drove away, kicking up copious amount of dust.

Spencer sighed, and sat his cookies on the bench. It was time to go face the sad reality of his mistakes.

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry about the long wait. Thank you all for the reviews :). Feedback is welcome... And the next chapter... I don't know yet. **


	7. Chapter 7

Walking into the house, it was about seven in the evening. Spencer had decided to procrastinate and ride around DC before retreating back to this hell hole. Coco, adorned in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and free of any ornate jewelry or erotic dressings, was curled up on the couch with Kumquat. It was the most clothes Spencer ever saw on her. Lying his bag down on top of the dog crate, Reid proceeded to trek up the steps without exchanging a word with Coco.

Yawning, he changed into something more comfortable and Monday night-esque. Slipping on some sweats and a very antiquated t-shirt, he tossed the used, dirty, clothes into the hamper. The debacle was what to do next, and his eyes traced back to the keyboard standing upright in the corner. Since Coco had moved in, that's all he ever truthfully did. Tired of the same song and dance, he decided on being adventurous and going back downstairs into the living room.

Surprisingly, he saw something that might in fact prove intelligence might still be a part of Coco's anatomy. Blinking, he had to make sure this was actually happening. The opening scene to Doctor Who flashed on the screen, and she smiled. Rushing down the stairs, he hopped over the back of his favorite recliner for some odd reason—maybe it was "YOLO" or whatever the girls constantly shrieked about. Anyways, no matter what it was, as soon as the mathematical equations ran through his brain, he knew he had messed up. Spencer's strengths were always in the formulating sector, not the performance sector.

With the slightest push, and the wrong angle, he was catapulted onto his rear. Not into the chair, but instead, on the carpet. "Ow," he muttered, receding back into the dark coffee colored leather chair.

Coco giggled, but her eyes remained fixated on the screen. "You didn't fail, the floor just needed a hug," she commented, stroking the tan fuzz of Kumquat's mane. Besides the fact the mutt had tendencies of a psychopath, it actually appeared to be affectionate at the present moment.

"I didn't land on my face," he snapped. Coco didn't seem affected by it, like any queen bee type would react; she continued to do whatever she was doing. Watching the quality television alongside her, she practically turned purple whenever the Doctor spoke.

"Well, your butt is as flat as your face," she shrugged, still stroking Kumquat with her left hand. Swiveling his neck around inconspicuously, he wondered why she thought his butt was so 'flat.' Were women attracted to men's butts? Honestly, what was all the hype about men's buttocks? Stereotypically, most men simply sit on them and scratch at them. Spencer didn't get any of it.

Debating on whether or not to make a comment about how orange her skin was, he chose against it. Instead, he spoke, "You like Doctor Who?" Going to commercial, the girl reverted her focus back towards him. Pursing her lips, she lightly kissed the top of Kumquat's poof of matted fur. Kumquat returned the sign of fondness with a tongue on the side of her face. Gross was the only thing Spencer could think of.

"Yeah, between all the different things going on, and David Tennant being the sexiest mofo on the planet… It isn't a bad show," she admitted. In response to Spencer's perplex glance, she said, "Mofo, Mother, er… Fudger."

"Thanks," Spencer expressed in a hushed tone. Not in a rude way, but in an enlightening sense. Reid now knew what Holly was calling him over text message. In no way was he a… Mofo.

"I still like Gossip Girl, 90210, and TMZ better though," she shrugged, still petting Kumquat.

* * *

If he heard, "Starships are meant to fly!" coming from her lungs one more time… Spencer was running exceptionally late for work, and according to Garcia, there was an AMBER alert case they were working. Time was of the essence here. Pacing around the kitchen angrily, he ripped off his pajama shirt and turned on the sink. Desperate times call for desperate measures. A young child's life depended on him right now. Smiling to himself, he uttered the thought… YOLO.

Sticking his hair under the sink, he wetted the tangled mess and ran his fingers through the strands. In the other part of the house, he heard the bathroom door open. Sighing, he retrieved the Pamolive from the countertop. Squirting a small amount onto the top of his head, he rubbed the substance through his mane. Rinsing the suds out, he heard Coco's footsteps. Sighing heavily, he continued with his shampooing. "You are Spencer right?" she questioned, "My anal-retentive, quiet, stressed, landlord?"

"You are Coco right? My materialistic, extroverted, shower hogging, rentor," he yelped under the running faucet. Scrubbing all of the soap out, he watched the excess run into the drain. Cramps formed in his abdomen from slouching over, water soaked the front and back of his sweatpants, and he still wasn't 100% clean. It would have to do, because he needed to be out of here in five minutes to be excusably tardy. His borderline-OCD was triggered by the heaps of water accumulating on the countertop.

"Don't get snippy with me," she warned, snapping her fingers together. Kumquat was yipping behind the bars of its puppy prison. Rot, Spencer spat within the confines of his brain. Reaching for the dishtowel, thankfully clean, he shook his hair in fabric. Switching off the faucet, he raced towards the stairs.

Usually slow on the stairs for a multitude of reasons, his clumsiness, his lack of coordination, maybe his bad luck, Spencer took them haphazardly two steps at a time this morning. Ascending the final steps, he felt his socked foot slip on the wood surface of the step. Before he could even formulate how long it would take him to hit the surface, it happened. "Son of a bitch!" Spencer yelled, quickly picking himself up.

"Negative self-talk hinders your goals Spencer," Coco condescendingly called up from the foot of the steps. Blood dribbled down his face from the blow. Wisely concurring that it was better to take a step at a time, he tried to think of an inappropriate slur to call Coco.

"Bite me," he murmured, but loud enough for her to hear. Finally getting to the top of the steps, Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding. Grabbing his phone off of the side table, he texted Garcia the generic, 'I'm going to be late,' message. The team was going to have to continue without him, he'd get briefed as soon as he arrived.

"I would, but you're going to have to pay extra," she slurred, standing outside of his door. For some ungodly reason, she was twenty times more bothersome this morning. "And for that dry spell you're having, it'll be quite enjoyable," she degraded, running her fingernails along the door. Each noise, each breath she inhaled, irritated Spencer to no end—he didn't anger easily either. In fact, there were very few people in this world he despised.

All around, he thought he was pretty easy to get along with besides the random fact spewing. "It'll be just as enjoyable as the Syphilis afterwards," Spencer insulted, hopping into a pair of pants that weren't sodden with, more or less, dish water.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll bag it up for you," she assured. Shaking his head in disgust, blood splattered on the wall. Sighing heavily- today was going to blow, metaphorically, he thought. "Trust me, I may be slutty, but I am not trying to become bulimic," she replied.

That was the final straw, he didn't respond to the ignorant bimbo. She made fun of a life threatening illness and his, er… Manhood, in one sentence. Why did she even think he would **pay**, to have sex with her? There wasn't enough money in the world to get Spencer Reid to have sexual intercourse with a complete sheep like Coco.

Seething angry, he got a box of tissues and held them under his nose. By the grace of god his khakis weren't stained red. Shrugging into some standard Reid apparel, he opened his door and slid himself around Coco. His hair was still damp, and his nose was still gushing blood, but he had to get a move on. "You going to miss me while I'm in the Hamptons?" she inquired, stalking behind him down the steps.

"No Coco," Spencer's voice was distorted by the tissues blocking his airways. Picking up his bag off of the top of the dog crate, he sighed in relief.

Coco grunted, "Prick," she jeered. Spencer shook it off; it would only feed into her ego. An altercation with Coco would always be one-sided. No matter what, she'd always be triumphant.

That is, in her perception. Wars aren't judged in the eyes that fought them; they rely on history's interpretation.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I know this probably isn't as interesting as the last chapter... But I had to start 'it' somewhere. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated :). Thank you so very much for reading, alerting, and reviewing!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Hey! Sorry I've been gone for a while, been on a charity trip. Anyways, this chapter is a bit all over the place, but I think it's somewhat okay. There's some real revelations put down in here. Thinking about wrapping this story up somewhat soon... But I usually say that about everything... So yeah. Thank you guys so much for the follows and the favorites. And as always... THE REVIEWS! Reviews are super awesome. **

**Without further or due, or however you say that fancy stuff. Enjoy.**

* * *

He was up, unlike any typical Wednesday night. Astoundingly, he hadn't received any sort of out of state case in the past couple of weeks. Spencer wasn't complaining. Once a safe haven, the District of Columbia now proved to be a series of questions he pondered upon the answer of. Maybe it was just him.

Lying in his bed, he tried to remember the girl, the one who knew his name. She was oriental looking. He hated lumping ethnicities together, but her eyes were far too wide, and her skin was far too pale to be oriental. Torturously, the engraving of her face lay in his mind that night. Was it all a hallucination?

Denial, that's the phase he was in. Seems like denial was the only phase in Schizophrenia, his thoughts intercepted the logical thinking.

I do not have Schizophrenia, he stated, flipping over on his stomach.

That's what a Schizophrenic would say; his logical side counteracted the denial.

Spencer was still dressed; he could escape the house tonight. Coco was out in the Hamptons. In fact, he could probably have someone over. Just as the thought sunk in, his phone buzzed on the side table. The incoming call was from Holly. Answering the phone, he greeted her with a halfhearted, "Hey."

"You up?" she questioned, somehow surprised. Spencer groaned loudly, throwing his face into the pillow. Letting it sink in, pure ecstasy was the reaction.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Want to come over?" she suggested, a rustling erupted on the other side of the phone.

By the end of the conversation, he was ready to go over there. Georgetown wasn't that far, at least to see his near favorite person it wasn't.

* * *

He ran out of her apartment. Pretty sure he had left his bag, and his shirt in the building, Spencer did not care at this point. What had he done to receive this kind of harrowing karma? Was it the drug addiction, or the time he had written on the bathroom wall at Caltech? Maybe it was the time he stuck his bubble gum under the table… Either way, he was convinced that all of the trivial things he had done in life didn't quite deserve this kind of reprimanding.

Holly ran out in _his _towel. Recklessly escaping the awkward situation, he pulled out into the busy street without looking. Thus, an array of loud honking erupted from the fellow drivers. He needed to get away from Holly, _him_, or whoever s_he_ really was. Seems like every chance he had with love was foiled by something.

Things had gotten hot and heavy between the two tonight. This wasn't a surprise to Spencer, Holly and him had the worst of sexual tension around each other, it was only time before something occurred. Any who, after these events, it was evident that Holly was actually more of a _Hollis_. He liked Holly as a person, but he was also attracted to females... Not his sex.

Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus on the road ahead of him.

* * *

The next morning, he found himself sitting on his porch. Clothed, he had just woken up from his slumber. Hair jutted out in spikes on his head, one could tell he had a rough night. Turning to the left, he saw the petite black haired girl swinging on the porch swing. Unlike the last time, she didn't have a box of chocolates and balloons, nor was she in all black. This time around, she was in some lime green sweater, with a classy lady-like pearl choker. Everything she wore was impeccably matched.

Her black hair was done up and not a single stray hair escaped the lengthy bob's straightness. Her bright red lips made her comparable to Snow White. "Well, good morning," she smiled, reaching down into the pink baby carrier that sat beside her on the swing. "I never really got to introduce myself did I?" she cuddled the baby wrapped in an ungodly amount of blankets closer to her.

"No, I don't think you did," Spencer tried his very best to sound somewhat cordial.

The woman sighed, "You were pretty drunk that night," she muttered. It was a tone that showed her darker side. Spencer cringed, though he knew little about women, he knew that tone didn't mean well. "I'm Lana, this is Faye," she gestured to the baby, who began crying. "I met you about two years ago in a Cracker Barrel, anyways," she smiled, like it was good memories or something. Reid was still 100% lost; he didn't even like freaking Cracker Barrel.

"So…" Spencer shrugged, he met a lady at a freaking Cracker Barrel, and he met a lady that was really a man, was there any difference? Was she going to tell him she was a he too?

As much as he hated to admit it, he actually loved Holly, Hollis, or whatever she or he was. Moving on, he awaited to see where this story the lady told was coming together. "I think you're the father of my child," Lana turned the blanketed figure around. Spencer shook his head and laughed.

That was not his daughter. "You see I was a bit loose a year ago," she blushed.

"That's a good one, you see," Spencer rolled over to the other side of his chair. "I always have protection," he boasted, reaching into the back of his pocket and pulling out his wallet.

"Well, I had twins, and I've called Maury…"

"Wow, this keeps getting better doesn't it?" Spencer joked, trying to keep as much composure as he could.

"Listen here douche bag," she shrieked, putting the now quiet baby back into the carrier, "All I am asking is that you take a fucking test, you're smart, you're always protected, you should pass lil' bitch," she cautioned, swinging the carrier over her shoulder. "So I'll email you the address, and I'll be in contact with you, and I hope you can simply cooperate, yah hear?" Lana snapped, buckling in their supposed child.

Spencer shook his head, "I watch where I stick it in," he taunted. Thus, this comment enraged the woman, causing her to slam the door behind her, and throw something unidentifiable at Spencer. Picking it up off of the porch as the woman stormed away in her tiny Prius, he saw the Hershey's label.

Maybe clubs weren't bad after all; it was just the girls you picked up in the Cracker Barrel bathroom.

* * *

Penelope poked at him all day at work, asking if he was seriously going on Maury. Morgan apparently took to it to be his responsibility to look up this girl on Facebook, and then share his findings with Rossi. Spencer was slowly becoming the laughing stock of the BAU.

"Hey," Holly spoke unevenly into the phone. Spencer had accidently picked it up.

"Holly," he muttered unenthusiastically into the receiver. "You know, I have to… Iron… My curtains…" he stammered trying to find a reason to hang up, "And the steam makes me so… Congested," he debated for a few minutes in the awkward silence, and slammed the phone down on the cradle. Rubbing his temples, a large mega migraine exploded behind his forehead. Coco would be back tonight, and apparently he had to make a quick trip to Connecticut to film his segment on Maury.

By far, Spencer thought he was easily the most intelligent out of the twenty odd guys that were taking the paternity test with him. When Lana said she was loose, she wasn't lying. JJ giggled behind his shoulder, "Hey Spence," she smiled, taking a perch on the corner of his desk.

"Yeah JJ," he grimaced, even though he had forgiven her, she wasn't his favorite face to see.

"You should really tell me how you keep yourself so active," she munched into a large Granny Smith apple.

Spencer wasn't catching her trail. After all, he was as thin as a rail with little to no meat on his bones, a walking skeleton in a sense. "What?" he questioned, trying to sound like he was paying attention.

"You know, your sex life…" she rambled on and on. Spencer turned twenty shades of red and laid his head on the table. Not only was his headache intensifying, but Jenifer just asked him how to spice up her sex life. That meant Will… Sweet baby Jesus, Reid hated being a profiler and being around them all day. Privacy was a rare experience nowadays.

Groaning under the embarrassment, JJ decided it would be an opportune moment to elaborate, much to Spencer's demise. "Will just can't meet my expectations anymore," she told him like it was completely normal, "Like, he's good, but I think there's more room for improvement."

"I'd give Will a B+ in technique, but in size, I'd give him," she stopped for a moment to ponder.

Reid's head jerked up and he put his hands out in a 'stop' motion. His cheeks were redder than a ginger's sunburned face after a day at the water park. "Whoa!" Spencer cautioned.

"You wouldn't mind joining us one night would you?" JJ bit her lip nervously.

"Yes I would actually mind, and I have to go…" Spencer tried to think of an excuse, "Iron my curtains!" he exclaimed, stuffing various items haphazardly into his leather messenger bag. Getting everything he thought he needed, and a little bit more, he ran as fast as he could to the nearest exit.

From that, he sprinted to his car.

And on top of all of this, Coco comes home tonight.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I liked the bus stop character too much to dismiss her so quickly as some cray cray baby mama. So here it is... Kill me for the cliffhanger. Thanks everyone for reading, subscribing... AND REVIEWING. IMMA REVIEW ADDICT. But seriously, it would be nice to have some feedback.**

* * *

Once again, he fled to the metrobus stop, at the national mall. Like the last time, he had a bag of cookies in hand, static hair, and entirely way too many layers of clothing on. Spencer could feel the perspiration, and as each passing plane flew ahead, he sweated even more so. Coco would be home tonight, if she wasn't already.

The woman, which he saw on his porch this morning, and the one he saw on the exact bench several days ago, sat next to him. "Great you stalked me here too," he groaned, munching on another cookie.

"Excuse me," she smoothed down her pink athletic tank top. Her wide set green eyes sent chills down Spencer's back. He knew why he had sex with her, she was astoundingly, strikingly, beautiful. Though very petite, she wasn't a stick. Actually, Lana was rather the opposite. Very curvaceous and absolutely stunning she was, and nothing less.

"Lana, I'm acutely at my wit's end right now," he complained, wiping the beads of salty liquid from his brow. Rolling up the bag of sweets, he tossed the remaining goopy cookies into the adjacent trash can. Her emerald irises were still inflated and wide, Lana was definitely not a blinker.

A smile crept up her face, her tamer peachy hued lips curling into something they shouldn't have been. Lana should be disgusted by my presence, considering I am a deadbeat daddy, Spencer criticized. One night at a Cracker Barrel bathroom had foiled his plans of never having children. "I'm Lana's twin sister, Audrey," she softly introduced.

"So you're the one I allegedly _didn't_ have sex with."

"For someone acutely at their wit's end, you are very humorous Dr. Reid," she grinned, "And I don't think you're the father of her children."

Reid sighed in relief. He really needed to hear that from someone. "Good thing they are twins, because I'd have a hard time believing someone slept with her twice," Lana's sister continued, "But that does seem to be the case."

Shaking his head, his life seemed to be bursting at the seams again. Now he had a mega headache, was scheduled to be on Maury in a week, and had to go home to Coco. "So she's a rare case of Heteropaternal superfecundation?" Spencer kneaded his forehead.

"Yes actually," Audrey bobbed her head. Her aura was so pleasant, unlike her sister's.

"You know, I actually like you," Spencer complimented, giving her a weak smile. The bus was approaching from the street corner, but the petite woman grabbed a pen nestled in her hair and pressed hard into Spencer's skin.

Daintly, she engraved her number on the back of his hand. Bringing it up to her lips, she kissed the rear of his palm, and told him rather seductively, "Don't keep me waiting then." Along with thick, dark, lipstick, her name and number were scrawled down. He was too blushed and frustrated to even know Audrey had boarded the bus, much less even talk to her.

And sometimes, the moment doesn't really need another awkward statement. It simply just needs to be left as it is.

* * *

"Hey Spencer, still hate me?" Coco surly greeted him. She was adorned in more or less lingerie, and still had the most annoying sense about her.

Spencer sighed, and threw himself onto the couch. It was miserably hot outside, and he didn't have the time or the patience to handle Coco, but ironically, he had the wit. "I'm not necessarily thrilled by your presence," he commented, trying to remain as sarcastic as possible.

"Bummer, I thought we were going to have hot makeup sex."

Reid smirked as he turned on the TV and it was surprisingly on the Sociology channel. Turning it back to the Science Channel, he insulted, "Unfortunately for you, I'm not into bestiality."

"Oh, douches like you are so cute," Coco snidely commented, sitting at Spencer's feet. More like on Spencer's feet. She actually wasn't as detestable as she normally was, but it was still Coco. Maybe if… focus, Reid scolded himself.

"I'm about to get really adorable," he spat out, unexpectedly coherent. Moving his feet from under Coco, trying to get away from her, she came even closer to him. "Who spiked your drink?" he nervously asked, trying to assist her.

"I'm sober," she whispered into his ear.

And with that, he escaped to his room. Pathetically, he launched himself on the bed and began rocking himself. The pain from the headaches, the voices he was distantly hearing, the looming insanity. Everything was too much. Coco came to claw at the door like a lil' bitch. But eventually, probably as soon as she heard Reid's sobs of pain, she left him to himself.

That was all he ever really asked for.

* * *

Before coming into the room after the paternity test, Spencer's day in the studio was doing pretty good. He didn't see Lana, he was at peace, everyone was controlled and very pleasant to be around. Now the room with the other 18 fathers, that shit was anarchy. One 6'7, 300 pound, Italian man was yelling at the top of his lungs, "That ain't 'mah baby, that ain't 'mah baby, that ain't 'mah baby, and it 'fo shore ain't this crackers," he gestured to Spencer.

He was a _really_ dark Italian. "She's a pathological liar that's after my paycheck," Spencer muttered. "But her sister is rather nice," he commented.

An array of 'Oh's' and 'Ah's' erupted from the men now encircling him. "Yo, man, this Saltine is a boss. Hey T-Bone!" the tallest, most vivacious man spoke up, yelling for his comrade. Spencer could only imagine who T-bone was.

Every man in the room, and a recent male to female transgender woman, was waited anxiously to see who the last father was. And the door cracked open. By now, Spencer was beyond caring. "This is R-I-D-I-C-K-O-L-P-U-S-S, 'ridickolpuss, I tell you, 'mah name T-Bone. My Mamma taught me to be celebrate, or whatever 'yo priest call it! MAN I'M 'TRYNA GET MY J-E-D!"

Good gracious, Spencer thought, I actually hope I'm the father so this baby won't be the stupidest brick on the planet. He added onto his negative enlightenment, I really hope T-bone does stay celibate, I'd hate to profile that offspring. "THIS IS 'GONNA SHOW UP ON 'MAH PAROLE AIN'T IT!" A large African man said in the corner, "COME ON, I WAS 'GONNA GO IN 'THA BUSINESS WITH FOXTROT, YO!"

I'd hate to know Foxtrot, Spencer continued. He really had empathy for their stupidity, but it was so easy to mock. "I pay 'fo 'mah sex, so this trick 'musta been in a buy one regret one package or 'sum shit," a man vocalized who sat across from Spencer, his front teeth were gold.

The new father sat directly across the room from Spencer, like he wanted Reid to see who he was, and 'Saltine' went into silent shock.

It was no other than...

* * *

**So, if you are kind enough to write a review... Tell me your favorite character :). You don't have too... But it would be nice. **

**Thank you so much you guys for everything!**


	10. Chapter 10

William Reid.

His father was allegedly another baby daddy.

Spencer excused himself from T-bone's ranting and raced to the bathroom. Locking himself in there, one thing was for sure, he would never come out. It was bad enough to purportedly have sex with Lana… But having sex with a girl who had sex with his father was downright nauseating, vulgar, and disturbing. At this point, Spencer would rather pay child support every month, even though they weren't his children by any means possible.

Splashing cool water on his face, he had to go back out. And, he did. Maury was beginning to read the story of Lana, and her two sons, Jason and Jerome. Spencer took a seat far away from William. Lana guessed who the baby's father was, and surprisingly she exclaimed, "I know one of them is Spencer's, and one is William's!"

"The father and the son?" Maury questioned, raising an eyebrow in interest, "Well we have them here today."

The studio managers barked at the two to get out on the stage. After being forced, and after some heated gazes exchanged between the father and son, they were thrown into the mob. Security was backing them up, and unlike Lana, William and Spencer remained silent and polite.

"Spencer, do you believe that these are your children?" he gestured to the board. There was no genetically possible way for his baby to have that thickness of hair.

Shaking his head, the crowd booed. "Her story is completely off, I have an eidetic memory and I would remember having sex with her," Spencer explained. Lana pounced and began yelling at Spencer and cussing him out.

"What's her story?" Maury queried, getting security to hold Lana back.

"Apparently that I had sex with her in a Cracker Barrel bathroom," Spencer shrugged his shoulders, knowing by now he had this paternity suit in the bag. The men behind the webcam nodded in agreement, and even his father did as well.

Maury scratched his head, "That is your father right?"

Reid nodded awkwardly, and William more enthusiastically, they both exchanged worrisome glances. "Sadly," Spencer sighed, "Can we get on with this Maury?"

"Alright, when it comes to the case of Jerome, Lilo you are the father!" Maury announced. Backstage cameras rolled and showed an awestruck Lilo, the transgendered woman, going absolutely AWOL. The crowd burst into cheers. Maury began talking once more after he had gotten the crowd calmed down, "When it comes to the case of Jason, T-Bone, you are the father!"

T-Bone ran out on the stage, and paused in front of Spencer and William, "Yo 'dawg, talkin' 'bout 'sum daddy issues righ' there'," then T-Bone proceeded to yell at the mob. Spencer and William exited, knowing their professional lives were at high stakes.

Before William could talk to his son, a set of fingers laced around Spencer's arm, pulling him off the side, "You promised you wouldn't keep me waiting."

Observing the figure in the dark closet, the eyes were a dead giveaway. "Yo, Kibbles and Bits, come check this, Saltine ova' her' issa' mint pimp, got 'sum game bro," a man pointed at them, not helping their case was the fact Audrey had her arms around Spencer's craned neck.

Closing the door, Audrey smiled and laughed a little bit, "You didn't have sex with her."

"Tell me about it," he giggled, feeling incredibly awkward in this position. She was beautiful, and they were alone, and she was interested… It would make a man nervous right?

"Well, where are you taking me?" she stood on her tiptoes to attempt to whisper in Spencer's ear. Too bad she was entirely too short in stature to even try.

* * *

At home, Spencer walked in ready to face Coco. Dropping his bag on the ground, he saw her curled up on the couch reading a thick book, glasses on the tip of her nose. "Do you want any pot roast I made?" she inquired, gesturing to the kitchen.

"Is that Nietzsche?" Spencer asked. Tipping the leather bound book upwards, he read the fine gold print. Much to his amazement, it was.

Coco nodded, her glasses excessively large and gawky, "Yep, just me and my French literature," she mentioned with a forced dry chuckle. She wasn't reading the book. Spencer though, wanted to see how much he could let Coco make an ass of herself.

"Never knew you had such tastes, Coco," he complimented, going into the kitchen to locate the aroma of the pot roast. It actually appeared edible, because in the top of the trash can was a to-go box, nice. "Have you gotten to the revolutionary 'God is dead' theology that channels the modern destruction of humanity and exposes nihilism as a self reflection of individuality to fix humanity, but not self reflection on humanity as a lump sum?"

"Yeppppppp, it's Coleen," she stammered, trying to make something up off the top of her head. Sipping on the delicious soup, it nearly came spewing from his nostrils when he heard her say, "God is dead and Satan has killed him." Finishing his bowl, he was trying to figure out the best way to burn Coco on her lack of intelligence.

"Right, Coleen, read your German philosophy and reflect on how we have killed God," Spencer patted her head, patronizing the electric blonde.

* * *

**AN: I'm putting this on hold. Not really into it anymore. Thank you guys though for the support and all the favorites, reviews, and follows. Coco isn't dead to me, neither is this version of Spencer... But I've got another fanfiction, and three original fictions I'm writing... Yada, yada, yada, you don't want to hear my complaining. **

**Anyways, this won't be the last of me... :)**


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